REDEMPTION DAY
by Roselyne
Summary: CM Punk once promised that he would go out with a BANG. On 2011.07.17, everyone bitterly discovered that the man, as crazy as he was, could indeed be trusted.
1. Prologue

Warning: Before you proceed, just keep in mind that **English is NOT my mother language**. So if you ever see **vocabulary** or **grammar** mistake in this text, don't hesitate to warn me. I'm always eager to improve :)

Author's note: This is an old fanfic I had been working about for a few months. Just a few ideas quickly typed on a file, but waiting for something to actually happen in the WWE, which I could connect to in a credible way for this story. I thought I could wait a few more months, and have some more work on this story, but with what CM Punk announced on Raw this Monday, I knew now was the time. I won't give up my other stories, though. Consider this prologue as a preview of this new story ;)

Background Music: This fic title was originally "End of Days", but as I was driving from my SmackDown April tour, and listening to **Johnny Cash - "Redemption Day"**, I came out with another ending that seemed to better fit the mood of the entire story planned here. This also reflected what the story will be about: the path of a man who'll discover that **everyone deserves a second chance**.

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**REDEMPTION DAY****.  
><strong>_"Everyone Deserves a Second Chance"_

**Prologue  
><strong>

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_**"**__**I knew I was gone at the beginning of the year**_**. **_**I just woke up one day and I knew. That's the way I work a lot of the time. I think it's creepy too, but it's really helpful. I knew I'd be history by July. Come say goodbye on July 17th... I promise to go out with a bang. Trust me."**_

_**- CM Punk, WWE wrestler. Quotation from "Memory of the End Of Days".**_

**·..·**

A dozen of men were sitting in silence in the underground of this hospital building. In that gloomy atmosphere, they simply waited. It was not forbidden to talk however, and sometimes one man or another even tried to start a conversation, but it was quickly drowned. You could read the worries on their face, and sometimes even the loss of hope. The more the time passed, the less they looked forward to a bright outcome.

But this was something none would express out loud. Their motto was _**"Never Give Up"**_. And through dark times and desperation era, it was those three words that had kept them alive and always walking, while others had simply lowered their head and decided to stop.

Sometimes, someone would leave the underground and return to the fresh air outside, quickly replaced by another man or woman who would bring in some can food or beverage to those who remained in the waiting. A waiting that was killing them inside with almost as much efficiency as the _things_ outside.

Randy Orton was the first one to perceive a noise from the heavy medical door on his right, and turned just in time to see it opening. He straightened at once, quickly imitated by the remaining of the troop. The first ones who walked through the opening were Heath Slater and Justin Gabriel. They both made a weary smile for the men who silently questioned them with intense gazes. Orton noticed with a frown that Gabriel looked as if he was about to throw up, while Slater looked even more morose and dim than usual. Of course, the big scar across his pale face probably added to that impression. But before Orton could ever ask out loud what everyone was secretly wondering, a third person joined the duo. And shouts of joy suddenly burst out.

Heath and Justin stepped aside to leave the floor to John Cena. Orton noticed that their leader looked a bit lost and out of place, but he imparted that to the severe operation the man had just undergone. An operation which had saved his life, but only through tragic consequences for Wade Barrett. _That_ was perhaps the reason why Slater and Gabriel didn't seem in a celebrating mood like the others were. Their former leader had sacrificed himself. That was perhaps the reason why John didn't seem as radiant as usual, why Orton didn't feel the same _presence_ around him. Maybe... Maybe the price to pay had been too high for him. Maybe Cena felt somehow guilty.

John Cena smiled softly to his men and waved slightly. "Long time no see, guys...".

To these men, those few light-hearted words with that slight trace of forced humor underneath, were worth every discourses even a President of USA had ever spoken in the past centuries. Orton let go a sigh of relief to that voice he had feared never to hear again, and he quickly erased of his mind all the quaint details he had noticed...

... Like that slightly spasmodic twitch in John's right wrist for example.

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**TO BE CONTINUED****.**

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_I'll leave you a moment to ponder on what the story will be about. You probably understood that I didn't start with the chronological beginning, so expect the next chapters to occur in the past. But you already have an idea where I'm heading to. _

_Or... Have you? ;-) *sadistic smile*_

**·..·**

_Next update will be the post-TLC story **"Never Got a Chance"** , with John Cena & Wade Barrett._

_Hugs :)_

_::Roselyne::_


	2. Ch 1: Two Paths Ahead

Warning: Before you proceed, just keep in mind that **English is NOT my mother language**. So if you ever see **vocabulary** or **grammar** mistake in this text, don't hesitate to warn me. I'm always eager to improve :)

Background Music: While writing this chapter, I happened to listen to the whole album **"Wound & the Echo"** by **Bleeding in Stereo**. Not exactly paying attention to the lyrics, but rather to the melody. Most of you already heard at least one music from them, probably without knowing: "Black or White": the music theme of team _"Justin Gabriel & Heath Slater"_ after the explosion of The Corre.

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**REDEMPTION DAY****.  
><strong>_"Everyone Deserves a Second Chance"_

**Chapter 01 - ****Two Paths Ahead**

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_**"**__**My first impression when I made my first steps outside, was that I had died and awoken in Hell. Because this couldn't be Heaven, otherwise, all the Pastors and Priests I had known during my childhood in UK were completely wide off the mark."**_

_**- Wade Barrett, WWE Wrestler. Testimony from "Memory of the End of Days"**_

**·..·**

Phoenix, US Airways center - 2011.01.03 - 11:40 pm

The US Airways center medical room was no better or worse, no more comforting or depressing than any other medical room in any other non-hospital building. The most adequate term could have been 'sordid'.

That room was usually used to heal a few tourists who had slipped in the stairs after an evening with way too much alcohol beverage at the local casino, or a few NBA sportsmen who had injured their ankle while trying to score a memorable basket in the arena. That room was also a passing through area for more serious cases, before an ambulance would take them to the most appropriate place: Emergency, or Morgue.

But tonight's specimen was of a rare specie. His name was Wade Barrett. For the moment, he was simply staring at the concrete wall opposite of him, covered with a sickly green painting layer, while trying to keep his expression totally neutral. It wasn't that difficult: he was feeling empty. After tonight's events - where not only he had lost his fight, but had been excommunicated from a group he had created and to which he had given all for the past seven months - he was feeling lost, isolated in a No Man's Land. And he was too exhausted both on a physical and moral level to be able to think about what he would do in a near future.

That's what the man in front of him was offering to do for him.

"Listen, player… Remaining at RAW would just be suicide", the little black and bald man continued, wearing his sober tux and tie. Wade turned his clear eyes to his interlocutor, without showing the least emotion. Even sat, he was dominating the other man with his high size and broad shoulders. The physical threat he represented extended out in every direction from his powerful frame. Just being in his vicinity could be disturbing. He could have moved his hand over the table, reached up, grabbed the man's neck and crushed it… had he wanted. And this even before the two male nurses standing near the door could have ever half-made a gesture to try and prevent him. But he had no such intend. First: outside the ring, Wade never attacked someone without a good reason. Second: his leading arm was held in a splint due to a potential fractured elbow. Below the splint, you could see a bandage tightened around strained ribs. Only his fingers were able to move, and were sometimes twitching in a spasmodic way; and sometimes he briefly clenched his fingers tightly, as if he wanted to release some exceeding energy but couldn't move as freely as he wanted.

"Now that you are alone with no group supporting you", the small man in front of him started, one of the very few allowed to walk freely in the area without the obligation to wear an visible identification badge on him, "all those you attacked these past seven months with the help of the Nexus, will all come back to seek revenge on you. They may eventually all attack you at once. Especially now that you are diminished".

Wade pinched his lips absentmindedly but displayed no emotion, just lifting back his gaze to the wall above the little man's head, who continued: "... and you'll also have the Nexus on your back, now. Your motto, it's _'You're either Nexus, or against us'_, right? Now that you're no longer part of it...". He didn't finish his sentence. It wasn't necessary.

Wade's silence was like acknowledging the facts. He wasn't one to comment on the obvious.

"Unless you'd want to change job", the man went on, "which would be a waste, considering your talent, your only hope if you don't wanna end as minced meat is to accept your transfer to SmackDown".

Wade took a slow and deep breath and brought back his clear gaze to his interlocutor. No smile, no frown, same unreadable expression. "Mr Long. I once made pressure on you from RAW for specific fights to be organized against wrestlers from your division. I even held you hostage at SmackDown one evening". Wade paused in order to study the round shaped face in front of him and went on: "Why would you want to help me today?"

"Because everybody deserves a second chance", Terry Long simply replied with a broad smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes, though. Wade held the stare of the General Manager of the rival division - rival to the one he had evolved in for the past seven months. If he accepted to join Long's team, it would be like betraying RAW. But considering his fate if he remained here... Especially since John Cena would soon be back from the hospital where he was staying since Barrett had badly hurt him a the week before during a stupid incident. Cena had never wanted to believe it was _just_ an incident, and had refused Wade's help once they were both backstage, pushing the young man away with scathing words. Wade had tried to persuade himself that those words were only due to the pain, but he also knew the hatred that Cena vowed to him. As soon as the Champ would be back - if himself was still alive by then - he would experiment a slow and painful agony.

No, Teddy Long was right. Even if the idea of a transfer to a place where his popularity was not a lot better than at RAW was giving him an unease feeling, if he wanted to keep wrestling, he had no other choice. He just hated the feeling to be pressured and overtaken in terms of time and possibilities. The idea hit him that maybe Teddy Long had waited in the shadow during the whole match, his contract proposition in his suitcase, hoping he would fail, so that he would offer him this poisoned apple while he was still vulnerable.

"Can I think about it until tomorrow, Teddy?", Wade tried. SmackDown General Manager just looked at him with a cold smile and shining eyes, though Wade couldn't determine what emotion was inhabiting them. "I'm leaving tonight to SmackDown head quarters. A jet is already planned. If you want to come with me, you must decide now... Or prepare yourself for not very rejoicing days at RAW".

Wade lowered his eyes to the SmackDown transfer contract. There was just his signature missing. Without looking up to Teddy Long, he spoke with a blasé voice: "I assume you already planned something for me, once I'll be transferred to SmackDown...". It was more a statement than a real question. Long leaned backwards in his chair and folded his hands. Now they were talking business!

"At first, you'll undergo a complete check-up to see the extend of your recent and older injuries. You'll receive all the necessary health care to be fully functional again. Every expense will be taken care by the company, of course. Then, you'll follow a training program, special and intensive, to lift you to the same level as the other SmackDown wrestlers. Once this program will be complete, and depending on the way you'll have progressed, you'll be released on the field with specific goals".

Though his way of talking was a bit odd, it was making sense for Wade. Many wrestlers who had been _recruited_ by SmackDown had disappeared from the screen for some time. If they had all gone through a _special training_, this could explain the astonishing performances some of them had displayed hereon. Wade kept staring at the document, refusing to meet Teddy's gaze. His mind, as tense as a bow string, was screaming to him that there was a trap, there _had_ to be a trap. His past as a fighter in disreputable countries had taught him that no one would make a generous offer, if himself didn't find his own interest; and unless you were _very VERY_ lucky, you were generally the one who was receiving the hefty bill in the end. In the brutal world that was his own, no one was ever doing anything for free. Teddy had certainly something particular in mind that would benefit both him and SmackDown. But Wade's welfare and security was probably the least of his concern.

However, on the other hand, Wade hadn't arrived where he was today by tergiversating endlessly on the correct procedure when two paths were ahead of him. It wasn't the first time that someone was trying to use or manipulate him. If an opportunity was presenting itself, especially if it was more interesting than his actual situation, he would usually take it. And he was later giving himself the time to study carefully his new situation, the time to find his own strings to pull, his own levers to operate. Each time, it wasn't some material possessions he was risking: it was his own life. And every times, he would try to take the maximum benefit out of the situation before he left with what he had initially jeopardized of course.

Teddy was right: RAW was a dead-end situation. SMACKDOWN had the charm of the unknown. Wade was realizing that whatever happened, it couldn't be worse than what his forthcoming days, weeks - or months if he was resistant - would be in his actual division.

He took the pen on the table, and after scanning diagonally the contract that was mostly the explanations Teddy had already given him, he signed at the specific area. It was the end of his time as leader of the Nexus. The end of all this comedy. The end of all this tension. Still, why this cold chill on his back almost as if he was selling his soul to the Devil?

After he put back the pen on the desk, Wade turned towards the door, still guarded by the two male nurses who queerly left him with an impression of jailers. Teddy examined the contract, then pleased, he filed it gingerly in his dark suitcase and stood up.

"You made the right choice. It's the beginning of something wonderful."

"No", Wade replied coldly without looking at him. "It's just the end of something abject".

He would have wanted to ponder a little more before signing. He would have also wanted a little more time. Not to say goodbye to his friends before leaving. He had none anymore at RAW. But to have the opportunity to apologize to John Cena for the hip injury he had caused the older man at that Pennsylvania House Show. And maybe for a lot of other bad things he had done to him. But it was too late for that. Too late for a lot of things, actually.

He didn't know it yet but the next time he would meet John Cena, that hip injury would be the least of the older man's worries.

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**TO BE CONTINUED.**

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_Tic toc… tic toc… in "real life" we are getting closer to the D day, where CM Punk promised he would go with a BANG! Four days left. Treasure them ;-)_

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**Now the reply to the Reviews:**

**Nefra: **Excellent, the poodle-thing! :D  
>Thanks for the corrections of my terrible English :-) Thanks also for your nice comment :-)<br>Me, killing all the time one of the heroes in my stories? C'mooooon, there are certainly stories where nobody died… Somewhere… ;) But due to the job the wrestlers have, you may have often a scene here and there happening in a hospital, I admit ;)

**Dio Della Morte** & **Cenarko 1986**: Thank you ;) Happy with the update? :)

**WWE-Slash-luvee:** will you be there on July 17th, in the Arena when CM Punk will make his last goodbye? :)

**KimberAnnBRAND: **I hope you enjoyed the update for NEVER GOT A CHANCE (if you didn't see it, you know you can hunt for it :D ). Thanks for your nice comments :,-) I know I'm sadistic sometimes(?), starting by the end, and showing a dark situation. But now the "fun" will be for you to see how I'm going to reach that situation and… when we'll be back to that moment in the story, to compare what you _thought_ that part was about, and what it will _actually_ be ;) I love to torture my readers' brain! :D

**·..·**

_Next update __should be "Ripple Effect", or this one (before D-day this Sunday) ;-)_

_Hugs :)_

_::Roselyne::_


	3. Ch 2: They'll Fix You

Warning: Before you proceed, just keep in mind that I'm a French speaker and that **English is NOT my mother language**. So if you ever see **vocabulary** or **grammar** mistake in this text, don't hesitate to warn me. I'm always eager to improve :)

Author's note: I've been working on this story since early 2011, but I was searching for a credible event to connect it with WWE storylines. When CM Punk threw his pipe-bomb on RAW, I knew I had found it. We've now passed the dreadful date announced by CM Punk of many months, but I want you to remember how you felt _before_ the 17th of July 2011, when CM Punk announced he'd go with a BANG! Because I'm going to continue with my initial idea, regardless what really happened in the show _after_ the 17th July 2011.

Background Music: This chapter was written with music from **30 seconds to mars** running in the background, especially _"The Kill"_ and_ "From Yesterday"_.

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**REDEMPTION DAY.  
><strong>_"Everyone Deserves a Second Chance"_

**Chapter 02 - They'll fix you.**

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_**"We are born to survive. But with survival comes the urge to make sometimes brutal choices carried by a kind of absurd instinctive wildness that our so-called civilised humanity always painstakingly tried to erase. But after July 17th 2011, the question became simple for everyone: Do you want to be civilised, or do you want to survive? **_

_**- John Cena, WWE Wrestler. Observations from "Memory of the End of Days"**_

**·..·**

Wetchester County Airport, CT - 2011.01.04 - 04h37 am

Wade woke up when the plane landed, probably due to the shock from the wheels on the airstrip tarmac. He couldn't remember the last time he had a full night of sleep, and the hum from the turbine engines had most likely worn out the last remains of his resistance. He was feeling a bit miserable, his tongue heavy and a strange bitter taste in the back of his dry throat. He saw that there was some water left in the small plastic bottle he had received from the flight attendant, and drank it all, feeling slightly better afterwards.

He could not remember the last time he had felt so tired at the end of a flight, but assumed that it was probably due to the shot of morphine he had received after they had put his elbow in a splint while in the medical room. His plans for the rest of the night were firmly set: no dinner, not even a shower when he would reach whatever hotel room was in store for him now at SmackDown. He intended to fall directly into bed and sleep for fifteen hours. At least.

He looked through the porthole as the plane was rolling towards Gate 5 and saw that the night was still there, but the first lights of the upcoming dawn were starting to appear in the East. Wade felt some loneliness gripping his heart. Within an hour, the sun would rise on a totally new future for him, and he didn't like how he had been almost forced on that new path, leaving everything and everyone he knew behind him. But he forced himself to remember that all the persons he had left behind him were now his enemies. He had to move on.

But when he tried to actually _move_ from his seat after the FASTEN SEATBELT lights went off, he felt his muscles strangely numb and a slight vertigo taking over him. He fell back in his seat with a sigh hiss through his teeth, wondering if he could have been more hurt than he initially thought by his fall in the cage after CM Punk's betrayal. He would have to warn Teddy Long about his symptoms.

He lifted his eyes and saw that the little bald black man was already standing and picking his precious dark suitcase from the compartment above his own seat. The man who had been by his side during the whole flight - some WWE employee of whom he hadn't bothered to ask the name - leant on him from the aisle and extended his hand.

For a few seconds, Wade didn't have the foggiest notion what the man's intention was and could only sit there, gaping at him and feeling exquisitely stupid. Then the penny dropped. The man meant to help him standing up. After a second failed attempt to rise from his seat on his own, Wade reluctantly accepted his help.

As he was standing in the alley, his vertigo reduced a bit, but he could feel like his legs were made of cotton and he shook his head to clear his vision. Teddy Long turned to look at him and Wade felt the somehow absurd obligation to justify himself in front of his new boss.

"I haven't slept in awhile. I feel like shit", he started slowly before shaking his head again, this time to clear his thoughts as he realized his language. "Sorry…"

"No big deal, player", Long replied with a smile - Wade noted again how the smile hasn't reached his eyes and decided he definitely didn't like it - before going on: "It can be the lack of sleep, but it's also possible that you're suffering from a concussion after your fall from the top of the cage".

Wade clenched his teeth in frustration. More than ever he wanted to punch his fist down CM Punk's throat, hoping the man would choke to death on it. Long went on: "But you shouldn't worry, we're heading to the hospital just after we leave this plane. Whatever you have, they'll fix you". Again this plastered smile - and the way SmackDown general manager was speaking about his injuries as if he was just a car needed to be _fixed_ - were getting on Barrett's nerves. This was just giving him an idea of how the wrestlers were perhaps considered on SmackDown: precise mechanics to be sent at precise moments to make the maximum impact on the public, mere pawns in a Chess-game they couldn't comprehend.

Except that Wade preferred to see himself rather as a chess _player_ than as a pawn - even a _king_ was not enough for him - and if there ever was a chess-game on SmackDown, he promised himself that he would quickly learn the rules and take control of it. As soon as he would be _fixed_ from his RAW injuries.

He let himself be guided outside of the plane. As soon as he passed the door near the control cabin, standing above the metallic stairs, he lifted his head towards the dark sky, feeling the drops from the soft rain on his skin as so much electrical jolts, _painless_ electrical jolts. The sensation wasn't normal, and his thought drifted back to the concussion possibility. He had never got once before, so all his weird sensations could be from that. Or the morphine. Whatever, CM Punk would pay _dearly_.

He brought back his gaze to the airstrip and saw a dark limo waiting not very far from the plane. Down the stairs was a wheelchair with someone standing near it. Someone who was directly staring at him. For a moment, all of this seemed strangely unreal to Wade, and he resisted an urge to tell Teddy Long that if this was some sort of Candid Camera bullshit, he could go fuck himself. But of course, it wasn't. WWE employees weren't into pranks and games, especially at the expense of wrestlers who could be having a concussion after a nasty fight.

He slowly walked down the stairs, his left arm held by the same man who had helped him out of his seat earlier. Wade clenched his teeth. He hated to be seen as vulnerable as now, but he couldn't risk another injury - from rolling down the stairs for example - because of his pride.

As soon as he sit in the wheelchair, he sighed with relief and leaned back, closing his eyes. He lifted his face towards the sky again, and let the soft rain dampen his skin and his hair. The sensation was still weird, but it was a sensation anyway. The rest of his body was numb. He barely felt when the man behind him started pushing the wheelchair.

When they reached the limo, he was helped from the wheelchair, and inside the car. He collapsed on the back seat. Teddy Long soon sit on his right, and another man joined in and sit on front of them. That man looked like a bodyguard, but Wade wondered who the man was supposed to protect, and against what. Then he remembered his early days in the WWE, when himself had been a bodyguard for already accomplished wrestlers. His imposing appearance, and rapidity of action had brought attention upon himself from higher circles, and he had received an opportunity to start as a wrestler.

This was - it now seemed for him - an eternity ago.

Wade only realized he had fallen asleep when the car stopped. He leant towards the windows and saw what looked like a hospital. Teddy Long put a hand Wade's left arm, obviously with the purpose of reassuring him. "They are going to run a few tests on you, player… to make sure you can make it through the night; _then_ you can rest all you want". Wade felt like the little man was trying to show some humor, to no avail. He politely smiled to Long before moving his good arm towards the door. But the bodyguard grabbed the handle and opened the door before he could ever reach it.

A whiff of cold air entered the car and wiped his torpor away, giving him enough strength to come out of the limo on his own. Yet, he was firmly advised to sit on his friend the wheelchair again. He accepted _only_ because he knew he probably needed medical assistance. For now at least. And as he was pushed toward the entrance of the hospital, he looked intensely at the glows of the approaching dawn as if he wouldn't see them for awhile, and made a vow to himself: CM Punk would pay dearly for all of this. To the latest cent. _And_ with interest rates.

It was almost 5 am and there was no one in the emergency line except for a woman with dark hair and a little girl with brown short hair with her right arm in a cast, staring ahead of her in his direction, and never looking away. This was a bit new to Wade. Usually people never stared at him too long and would most likely divert their eyes from him, quick. He had carefully built protective hostile walls around him, making sure people would somehow instinctively _feel_ them and think twice before annoying or attacking him. It could seem paranoid, but he was working in an environment where paranoia was just another word for _survival instinct_; and _'friends'_ was just a shortcut word for _'people who are temporary your allies, but be careful and never turn your back on them'_.

In his world, people staring at him for more than three seconds were most likely to jump at his throat next. But this was just a child, and children didn't have the same instinctive fear or macho competitive mind as adults. For them, everything was just a game.

Yet, still sit in his wheelchair, Wade found something odd in her light gray eyes. But when the woman murmured something to her, the little girl looked immediately toward the sound of her voice, and Wade understood she was blind. Oddly, he felt some relief washing over him.

But before he could ever feel some remorse about his thought, a doctor walked to him, examined him and questioned him. He quickly announced Wade that he would make him pass a CT scan and a MRI, explaining him with a nice and reassuring voice that _everything would be all right_ and that _whatever injuries he had, he would be fixed_. Wade frowned as he heard that word again, knowing now where Teddy Long had probably borrowed that strange medical term. Yet, he didn't like it. An animal - one with extremely sharp teeth and claws - awakened and started growling inside his mind. He knew the name of that animal: it was survival instinct.

He was brought to the MRI scan and was asked the usual questions by a petite Asian nurse with her hair held in a bun: did he have a heart peacemaker, did he have some types of surgical clips inside his head, did he have metal fragments inside his eyes or elsewhere, did he have neuron-stimulator implants. Wade replied no to all these questions and he was invited to remove anything metallic on him, and leave his credit cards and all other magnetic cards in a box.

The nurse injected him a dye in the vein of his left arm, explaining this would improve the image they would get. She brought another syringe and told him that this solution contained also a medication to help him relax. Wade just laughed at that.

"You really don't need that with me", he replied with his first genuine smile since his transfer from RAW earlier that evening. "I'll probably start snoring on that table before you have the time to switch on the machine".

She smiled patiently at him, as if it wasn't the first time someone would tell that to her, and explained that the machine would make a banging noise while it was working, making it impossible to sleep, while being quite unpleasant. She added that as patients had to lie inside a large cylinder while the scans were being made, it was not uncommon to have one discovering that he was claustrophobic during the test. So as a safety measure, everyone was receiving a anesthetic injection.

Wade shrugged and let the nurse inject the product inside his veins, before he laid down on the cold table. The splint holding his right arm was carefully removed and the nurse tried to move his arm to his side as painlessly as possible. Wade mentally noted that he would have to tell her _thank you_ for that, once the scan would be over. He didn't know yet that he would never see the nurse again.

A minute later, the MRI process started and the table slid inside the tunnel, and as the light started to become brighter and brighter around him, along with the banging sound of the machine, Wade's eyes slowly closed. His last conscious thought was for CM Punk. That man was a sneaky manipulative thief. Wade had no idea why the straight edge leader had decided to put his hands on the Nexus, but he assumed from the weird sparkle he had seen back then in the smaller man's eyes, that his motives were not exactly based on friendship and solidarity. The man was potentially mad.

Wade didn't know it yet, but the next time he would face CM Punk, he would realize that "mad" was an understatement.

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**TO BE CONTINUED.**

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_Thanks for your reviews, everyone ;) _

_Next WWE story to be updated should be **"Rise Above Hate"**. You know the creepy one you seem to like so much ;-) _

_Hugs :)_

_::Roselyne::_


End file.
